Only Human
by RecoveringTheSatellites
Summary: It's difficult being a Kent, whether you have superpowers or not. A collection of shorts about the parents behind the superboy.
1. No More Second Chances

No More Second Chances

The transition to farmer and farmer's wife was not as easy as you might imagine.

Jonathan Kent sat on the fence staring at the cows that wandered slowly across the field. The field and the cows in it were now his. The cows meandered along oblivious to the change, but for Jonathan the past week had changed almost everything.

He didn't think he'd ever heard the farm so quiet. And it wasn't because I was empty, the usual trio of farm hands could be seen out in the field, talking loudly as they finished up for the evening. No it was quiet because the quietest man he'd ever known was missing. Jonathan noted the irony but chose not to dwell on it further. It was his father's absence that was creating the void, even though Hiram Kent had barely said two words to his son in recent years. Jonathan had a number of theories as to why this had happened, maybe the man was still angry with him or maybe the man who never had much to say for himself anyway, had run out of things to say. Whatever the reason, they'd kept on working side by side, his presence always there.

The funeral had been a week ago now, but it had only been today, as he finished unpacking the last few possessions he and Martha owned back into the house he'd grown up in, that the loss finally sunk in. He hadn't felt right moving back in so soon, even though everything was now his, but the farm had to be maintained and as a good number of people had pointed out, it seemed silly to continue to live in that tiny apartment above the cinema and drive in to the farm every day. Still, rather than move their things into the master bedroom he'd chosen to squeeze their double bed into his old small room, not wanting to intrude on everything that was once his parents.

So this was it then, he realised as he slipped off the fence and wandered into the barn, his feet taking himself subconsciously up the stairs to the loft. All hopes for second chances were lost, for squaring things with his father and for that life of his own, the suggestion of which had caused all the upset in the first place. He'd kept putting it off, telling himself that he'd leave as soon as his father could afford to pay someone to take his place, but the farms finances never got any better and now it was too late. The farm was his now whether he wanted it or not, and there was no way he could bring himself to sell it.

He stood at the window and ran a hand across the telescope that his father had given him when he was a teenager. It seemed like a world away now. He peered through the lens, realising that he hadn't touched the thing since highschool and that it was still pointed at Nell's house. They'd used it so he'd know when her parents were out, so he could sneak over. He smiled, and moved it back up so that it pointed back at the sky. At least that part of his life had turned out right, he smiled thinking of Martha in the house below.

He leaned against the window and watched as the sun set over the fields, remembering the first sunset he'd brought Martha up here to see, on that first weekend she came to meet his parents and wondering in hindsight what he would have said if she'd peered through the telescope. When it had disappeared over the horizon he wandered back down and across the yard to the back door of the house, lost in his thoughts.

He looked up, the lights were on in the kitchen, looking inviting in the fading light. Banishing his thoughts, he put on a smile and strode into the kitchen. The smile fell from his face when he found Martha standing over the sink wiping tears from her eyes.

"Sweetheart what's wrong?" He rushed to her side.

"I'm sorry." She said.

"What for?"

"It's silly." She admitted, "But now that we've got an actual kitchen, I thought… I wanted… I was going to make you a proper home cooked meal. I really wanted to make a home cooked meal."

"That's great of you sweetheart but what's wrong?"

She pulled open the oven door and thick black smoke billowed out. When the smoke cleared what was left was a charcoaled lump of meat surrounded by charcoaled lumps of potato.

"I'm sorry." Martha said again. "I just wanted you to feel at home again."

"Hey, come here." Jonathan pulled her close.

"I guess this farmer's wife thing will take some getting used to that's all." She said looking up at him with half a smile on her face.

He grinned back, "I guess I'll just order pizza."


	2. Temper Tantrum

Temper Tantrum

"_We were never afraid of you, Clark, you had a few temper tantrums…" – Jonanthan Kent 'Leech'_

"He's at it again Jonathan." Martha said, appearing in the barn, a look of worry etched on her face "I don't know what to do with him anymore."

Jonathan eased his way out from under the tractor he'd brought in out of the rain to repair. "I'll go and talk to him."

"We can't keep doing this."

"What else can we do Martha?" He straightened up and strode into the house followed by his wife.

He moved up the stairs slowly following a trail of small muddy footprints that lead into Clark's room. The small boy was sat in the middle of his bed reading a picture book. He was covered in mud from head to toe, as was the bed, and the carpet.

"Hey son." Jonathan smiled leaning against the door frame.

"I don't want to. You can't make me." Clark said grumpily, not even bothering to look up.

"Clark you're dirty, you need a bath."

"I like being dirty."

"I Know son." Jonathan decided to appeal to his son's sense of male camaraderie. "I like being dirty too. But your mommy likes us being clean. And your mommy feeds us so we need to be clean for her okay?"

The offer of food was often enough to bribe the boy, but apparently not today. "I'm not hungry."

"Really? A growing young man like you not hungry? Well I'm hungry so lets get clean and eat. Mom's made us apple pie."

"No, I don't want to."

Sighing Jonathan moved into the room and sat down on the bed. "The water's going cold. You don't want a cold bath do you."

"You wouldn't." he stated flatly.

"I would."

"You can't make me."

"Can't I?" Jonathan swept him up, catching the boy by surprise. Grasping the wriggling boy by the waist, Clark was powerless against his father who strode towards the bathroom, prepared to throw him in the bath fully clothed if necessary. He was almost there when Clark reached out and grabbed the bathroom door frame with a vice-like grip.

"Okay Hercules, stop it now." Jonathan reached out and tried to prize his son's hand from the door. The boy let go and swung at his father fending him off, catching the man's jaw with his fist.

Jonathan yelled in pain and surprise and Clark wriggled free, pushing his father away from him. The push had not intended to be malicious but it was enough. Arms flailing Jonathan toppled down the stairs almost in slow motion. Unable to catch his balance, he landed at the bottom of the stairs at Martha's feet. He looked up at his wife, his jaw already black and swollen.

"I'm sorry!" Clark shouted from the top of the stairs, before obediently getting into the bath, peering at his parents from over the rim of the tub.

Jonathan started to laugh but stopped when it hurt, "I told you I could get him to bathe." He gloated, mumbling round his swollen face.

"Nevermind that," Martha crouched beside him in worry. "That jaw looks broken, we're going to have to get you to hospital. Jesus," she gasped, "what are we going tell them?"

Jonathan shrugged, "The truth. That I got kicked by a vicious animal."

THE END


	3. Secrets

Authors Note: These stories are all a bit random as they are posted in the order in which they arrive in my head and are generally stand alone, but just because this one is set in season 2 it doesn't mean I've intentionally skipped the early days, there will be more.

Secrets

_Post-Insurgence. Martha barely lasts a day as a secret agent._

"Maybe we should take a page out of the Luthor playbook." She still couldn't believe her husband had said it, and she couldn't believe she'd gone along with it. Now as she drove to the mansion she felt dirty. She was betraying the man she worked for and despite what he'd done to her and her family, she felt guilty. It ate away at her that she was driving to work in order to spy on her boss, just as that watch she'd hidden in her underwear drawer consumed her. She'd wanted to give it back and forget about, so there would be no need to tell Jonathan and Clark about it. But now that she'd decided to use her job to get to Lionel she felt she couldn't do that either.

She'd carried the biggest secret in the world for thirteen years but now the secrets were just becoming too many. And now not only was she spying on her boss, she was lying to her husband. Taking a deep breath to strengthen her resolve, she decided that at least she could stop doing that. Tonight when she went home she would tell Jonathan everything, about the watch, about the key to the ship she'd found in the previous week in Metropolis and about the baby whose existence she still believed too good to be true despite a dozen test results that told her otherwise.

Feeling slightly better for her decision, she pulled into the driveway at the mansion, parked and just sat in her car for a moment. She opened the glove box and took out the resignation letter. She almost took it with her, intending to hand it in and get out as quickly as she could, clearing herself of the last nagging secret, but Lionel Luthor's appearance at the door made her lock it back in the glove box and step out of the car empty handed.

"Good morning Martha. You know I could get you a company car, what would you like? Mercedes? Jaguar?" he smiled, "Or would a rusty Dodge flatbed be more your style? You clearly have a taste for the more rugged side of life."

Martha smiled a fake smile, knowing he couldn't see it anyway, refusing to be baited by snide remarks about Jonathan.

"My cars fine thank you."

"Of course," he said taking her arm as she lead him into the mansion. "You can hide a watch from your husband, but a car rather stands out doesn't it." He placed a hand on her wrist. "I notice you're not wearing it."

"I…" she began.

He held a hand up to quieten her, "It's okay. I understand. It was a gift. What you do with it is up to you."

They wandered through the halls in an uncomfortable silence that stayed with them for most of the day, only talking about what was absolutely necessary to get the job done. Martha's entire body was tense as she sat next to him, hurrying through the work in an effort to get out of his presence as soon as possible. She hadn't expected things to change much since finding the files on Clark the previous week during the hold up, but now everything he did she found herself questioning, and the thought that she might inadvertently aid something meant to uncover their secret or damage someone else made her cringe. And yet the idea of spying on him seemed equally repulsive, she found herself praying that she wouldn't have a chance to attempt anything.

Her prayers weren't answered and in the early afternoon she got her chance. The maid had just come in with sandwiches and bottles of water when Lionel's phone rang.

"Hello Lex," he answered. Holding his hand over the microphone he apologised, "Sorry Martha, this is private."

She made to get up but so did he, "No. You carry on, I'll take this outside."

Martha waited until he was outside and the door had closed to slide her chair over to the computer terminal. She had glimpsed Lionel's password over his shoulder as he'd typed it in, weeks ago when she'd first started to work for him and she typed it now. She uttered an uncharacteristic curse as a red box blinked up 'Access Denied'. She tried again, thinking she's just mistyped, but the box appeared again. Realising he must have changed all his passwords after the hold up, she swung back to her own work just as the door swung open and Lionel strode back in.

"Lex will be in from Metropolis this afternoon. I fear he's going to attempt something stupid. Would you care to stay to dinner? I feel we may need to work on a counter-offensive in preparation for my son's next act of rebellion." He said it more like a statement than a question, assuming she would stay. And why shouldn't he, Martha thought bitterly, after all I went to Metropolis for the day instead of spending my anniversary with my husband.

"I should really call Dominic," he continued, "He really should be a part of our plan."

"I'll get him on the phone." Martha said, picking up the cell phone from the desk, but Lionel, with the accuracy of a man who could see placed his hand upon her, pinning the phone to the desk.

"No, not yet. Dominic won't be pleased with my decision and it would be a shame to ruin an afternoon. I'll call him later. There is no need for him to interrupt too early." The hand he'd placed upon hers traced slowly up her bare arm, Martha leapt out of the way before he reached her shoulder.

"Mr Luthor," her voice stuttered with surprise at the action, "You may expect everything you want from your employees but you won't get it from me!"

"I'm sorry Martha, I know that it's just…"

"Just what?" she snapped, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair and tugging it on violently.

"I know you're not happy. The farm isn't enough for you. I only wanted to give you what it is you want. What you deserve."

"Jonathan is more than enough for me." She said as she grabbed her bag and stormed out. She'd expected him to shrug and continue working but instead he strode after her.

"Martha, I'm sorry." He sounded genuinely upset but Martha could still only wonder if it was an act. Before last week she maybe would have believed him not now she wasn't sure whether he'd ever been truly sorry a day in his life. She stormed down the hall as fast as her legs would carry her, so that he couldn't catch up to her without running. Running was a loss of control and Lionel Luthor did not loose control.

He stopped at the outside steps and watched her as she went to her car and yanked the door open, getting in and slamming it shut. The tyres screeched as she swerved round and out of the driveway. As she reached the guard at the gate she wound the window down and handed him the letter she'd kept in the glove box.

"Give this to Mr Luthor." She said before speeding off.

She was so angry and upset, tears now threatening to fall, that she did not notice her husband drive past her, equally angry. And she didn't hear him screech to a halt and slam the door, even though it was done with such force she might have. And she didn't hear her husband yell to the man who stood bewildered on his doorstep, "I found the watch, you bastard. You'd better stay away from her!"

THE END


	4. Bad Dreams

Bad Dream

_Post-Arrival. Sixteen years of nightmares and it's happened again._

Jonathan Kent woke to another nightmare, jolting alert just as the meteor of his dreams hit.

"Jonathan, what is it?" Martha asked sleepily, clutching his arm around her tighter as they lay huddled under a blanket on their temporary bed of hay in the barn.

"Nothing," he said, snuggling closer and kissing the back of her neck gently. "Just a bad dream that's all. But we're all here, we're all okay." He said, peering over Martha's shoulder just to make sure that Clark was there too, asleep on his own hay and blanket-made bed a few feet away.

Still able to feel the tension in her husband's body she asked, "Is it the same dream? The one you always have?"

"Variation on a theme." They spoke quietly so as not to wake Clark.

"They're only dreams Jonathan." She reminded.

"Except for yesterday when they came true." He paused, biting his lip to keep it from quivering. "I'm sorry. You're right, they're only dreams. Just try and get some sleep sweetheart, if it's possible to get any at all in this drafty barn."

Martha looked up at him and smiled, "The last time we slept out here you had to crawl back into your own bed before the sun came up."

Jonathan returned the smile, "And you got so good at driving that clapped out car away so quietly my parents didn't suspect a thing. They thought I was marrying a good girl."

"Dad please." Clark mumbled, opening one eye and glaring at his parents. "I don't want to know okay?"

"Jesus Clark, I thought you were asleep."

"So I gathered." He said rolling over to turn his back to them.

The barn fell silent, Martha and Clark's breathing slowed as they both fell back to sleep. Jonathan listened to them for a long time, realising with a smile that Clark snored now that he was no longer superhuman. He wondered whether his son had lost his powers for good this time, but if he'd learnt anything about Clark it was never to make assumptions.

When he'd lain awake for well over an hour with no chance of even closing his eyes, he slipped expertly from Martha's grip and pulled on his boots and large worn coat. He felt like he'd worn that coat for every day of his life. Martha hated and kept telling him he needed a new one. He'd kept making excuses, unwilling to spend any money on himself until they actually had some. With the house wreaked and half the cattle dead he supposed Martha wouldn't be getting her wish anytime soon.

He stepped out of the barn, closing the door silently behind him and stood looking up at the house, or what was left of it. In the first meteor strike their house had been spared, Jonathan had first put it down to sheer luck but now he knew it had been engineered that way. And this time it had been the sight of the first meteor to hit, their punishment. Jonathan wondered whether it was Jor-El's intention to kill them or just teach them a lesson.

"Well Jor-El," he said aloud, feeling slightly stupid for doing so, "You still haven't beaten us. No matter how hard you try." He stared at the wreckage of the house his grandfather had built, the one he'd grown up in and made his own. "Well have you finally given up Jor-El? Is that why Clark's human? You've already taken everything we have. You've taken everything! But I still won't let you have my son!" He screamed at the house as though it were its fault and kicked at a charred piece of wood that used to be a part of their veranda. Weakened, it cracked, collapsing a little bit more of their precious home.

He stepped through carefully into what had been their living room, though it was now barely recognisable as such. He tried to tell himself that it was just a house, that they would rebuild and it would all turn out okay but he couldn't bring himself to believe it. And yet it was what he'd told Martha, but he'd told her with enough false conviction that she'd believed it even when, like him, she couldn't see how.

"Don't do this anymore Jor-El." Jonathan pleaded, his voice now barely a whisper. "You can't do this to us anymore."

He felt his lip quiver again and before he could stop it hot tears spilled over, running down his face. He knelt on the floor, among the debris and sobbed openly for the first time since he was a young child.

When Clark and Martha woke in the morning they found him sitting on the charred and broken steps lost in thought. His eyes were still rimmed red but neither said anything.

"Have you been out here all night?" Martha asked tentatively

Jonathan looked up at her and smiled, "Yeah, just working out the best way to get started on building our new house."

THE END


End file.
